


Time Goes By

by too many stars to count (imagined_away)



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Families of Choice, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 15:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagined_away/pseuds/too%20many%20stars%20to%20count
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the years pass since the deaths of Thomas and Martha Wayne, Alfred does his best to raise Bruce and then keep him alive as he undertakes his mission to make Gotham City safer. Spanning twenty years in the lives of Bruce and Alfred starting from the day Mr. and Mrs. Wayne die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Goes By

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old fic I'm moving over from ff.net I hope you enjoy and please feel free to review!

Bruce was eight-years-old and in the span on fifteen seconds he had become an orphan. 

Alfred Pennyworth was thirty-six-years-old and staring in the face of uncertain parenthood.

"Let's go home, Master Bruce."

: :

Barely a year later and Alfred was watching his young Master and ward push himself through countless sit-ups and push-ups even after his martial arts instructor had left.

"Dinner, sir." Alfred said firmly and Bruce allowed himself a second against the soft carpet eyes closed, before pushing to his feet. Alfred laid a brief hand on his should as the boy passed him.

Bruce sat in the seat left of the head of the table refusing, as he had for the past fourteen months, to take his fathers seat. Alfred, after serving, sat across from Bruce. He still felt out of place sitting at the main table but he refused to let the nine-year-old boy eat alone.

"No dessert." Bruce said in a steely voice when Alfred offered him a brownie. "It's not Friday. I'm in training.  _No_  dessert."

"Yes, sir."

: :

"Master Bruce have you lost your senses?" Alfred demanded looking at the burn on his ward's arm with worry. Seven years later now and Alfred was desperately trying to walk the line between being Bruce's legal guardian and his butler. No one ever said fifteen-year-olds were easy to handle.

"They were going to die, Alfred!" Bruce said fiercely. "The firefighters couldn't get to them in time. What was I supposed to do?  _Let_  the die?" He stared at Alfred remorselessly.

"Sir,  _you_  could have died. You are not a trained professional and contrary to what you seem to believe you are  _not_  fireproof!" He gently held Bruce's burned arm up as proof.

"I know." Bruce said wincing slightly as Alfred put gauze covered in ointment on the burn. "I have to be faster, better. But they were little kids Alfred. The youngest wasn't even two. I could let them die."

Alfred softened unrolling a bandage. No wonder he was going gray at forty-four. "I know, sir, I know." He taped the bandage in place and cupped the back of Bruce's head. "Dinner and then bed. No push-ups tonight, your arms need time to heal." Bruce nodded looking a little bashful but not at all sorry for his actions.

: :

Eight yeas now and Alfred even missed the relentless training and countless injuries. Eight long years since Master and Mrs. Wayne had died. Alfred had felt every day.

Bruce had changed so much but Alfred tried not to think of what he had been; only what he was. Every day was a victory in his mind.

Now though he couldn't even celebrate those victories though. Bruce had left in search of more training. He'd put Alfred in charge of everything from the Manor to Wayne Enterprises.

And then he'd gone.

Alfred hadn't heard from him in two months. He hoped that was simply due to a lack of phone access and not something more sinister.

: :

Ten years gone by and today was Bruce's 19th birthday. He wasn't home but Alfred  _had_  heard from him three weeks ago. Bruce didn't say much when he called and Alfred knew they were for his benefit more than anything else. He appreciated them all the same.

With a sigh Alfred lit a candle in the study and dropped into a chair. "Happy birthday, Master Bruce." He said quietly starring at the curtained window.

: :

Twelve years passed and Alfred was dusting. It was part of his never ending hope Bruce would return home soon. Alfred was determined the house would be in pristine condition.

Bruce hadn't called or written in three months. Far from being deterred Alfred's cleaning only intensified. It was his own private way of coping with the idea his Master was hurt. Or worse.

"Splendid." He said looking around the freshly dusted library. "Now onto the study and then – " Alfred broke off as the front door opened.

' _Bruce?'_  No answer. Had he forgotten to lock the back door? He took a few deeps breaths waiting to see if the mystery visitor would announce himself. He didn't.

Alfred cursed the complete lack of anything that could be useful against an intruder. He mentally prepared for a fight. No one was taking anything out of this house!

Alfred knew Bruce had sometimes doubted the stories he'd told about his life before working for the Wayne's but they were true. He had worked for governments, hunted thieves, been a field medic, and for one wild crazy glorious year, acted in a traveling theatre company.

Whoever was wandering around the entrance hall would soon learn Alfred still remembered plenty of the hand fighting techniques he had learned so long ago. He crept to the front of the house.

"What  _do_  you think you're doing?" He asked harshly stepping into the hall. Whoever it was had his back to Alfred and was  _holding a picture of Master and Mrs. Wayne!_

He turned slowly putting the picture down and Alfred stood tall not giving this man an inch. "Alfred?" The voice was gruff but familiar.

"Master Bruce?" His voice shook slightly but he didn't move. The man standing across from him pulled his hood down and unwound a thick scarf. "Master Bruce." He repeated stronger this time. Both men moved towards each other and embraced. "I'm so glad you're home, sir."

: :

"I'm sorry, Master Bruce? Come again?" Alfred prayed he had misheard.

"The police can't handle all of these crimes, Alfred. I can help!" Alfred never misheard. "Obviously I can't keep wearing this." He gestured at the all black outfit he was wearing while Alfred glared at the ski mask lying on the desk.

"Batman." He said slowly, repeating the name Bruce had told him earlier. "May I ask where  _that_  came from?"

"Well, I found a cave full of bats on the Manor grounds. It scared the shi – gave me a fright." Bruce amended under Alfred's disapproving gaze. "It will work, Alfred." He urged. "It's right here." Bruce rolled out a blueprint of the house and pointed to the south east corner." "I was thinking we could use it as a base."

"We, sir?" Alfred raised an eyebrow. Bruce looked more than a little panicked. He looked at the map where Bruce's finger still hovered. "Below the study?" Bruce nodded looking cautiously optimistic. Alfred's mind was racing one question front and center.

"Why, sir?" He asked. "Do you realize the risk you're taking? You could be caught, arrested,  _killed_."

"I know." Bruce answered. "But I made a vow. I won't let them down, Alfred. I'll be careful."

Thirteen years later and he was still very much a hurt eight-year-old boy. "Alright, sir." Alfred said softly. "Let us prepare." He pulled the blueprints towards him. He must be loosing his mind.

: :

Fifteen years gone by and Alfred had somehow kept Bruce alive when injury after injury should have put him in the hospital. Seeing the scars that littered his Master's body made Alfred's stomach turn.

"I've got to go out with some girl tonight, Alfred." Bruce said straightening his tie.

"Ellen Stevenson, Master Bruce. I would suggest you remember it, sir. Her father is on the board of Gotham City Hospital. To which," He reminded the younger man. "You will be making a large donation next week."

"Ellen." Bruce repeated. "Well, how do I look, Alfred?"

"Like a millionaire playboy." Alfred said dryly. "Will you be going –out – after your date?"

"If everything goes according to plan. There's a murder lead I need to follow up and a shipment of drugs is coming to the harbor tonight. I thought I'd stop by and talk to a few people." He grinned wolfishly.

"Where will I be bringing you and Miss. Stevenson, tonight?" Alfred asked handing Bruce his coat.

"The circus." Bruce shrugged on the coat. "The Flying Graysons are in town."

: :

Sixteen years later and Master Richard was flourishing. Alfred's initial concern had melted away when he saw how devoted his Masters were to one another.

Master Bruce loved Richard as well as any father would have and Master Richard hung on every word Bruce said.

Everything was looking up.

: :

Eighteen years passed now and there was yet another youngster involved. Alfred rather suspected that Master Richard and Miss Barbara were rather infatuated with once another but he kept silent.

Batgirl as she was called had already encountered the Commissioner a few times. He had suspected nothing putting everyone's mind at ease.

: :

Twenty years later and Master Bruce was in his bloom. He was not, as Alfred had perhaps hoped, settled down and happy as a pig in mud. But he  _was_  happy, and healthy, and loved.

And finally, after twenty years Master Bruce felt he had a true family once more.


End file.
